


E s c a p e

by wolftrapvirginia



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6491635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolftrapvirginia/pseuds/wolftrapvirginia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One minute they are standing near the incoming car of supplies, the next minute Chris’ strong fingers are on his forearm, bruising, digging into his flesh, stirring him towards the back of the truck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

I

 

Everything happens so quickly that Toby doesn’t have time to protest; doesn’t have time for, _My parole hearing, I can’t do this because of my parole hearing next year._ One minute they are standing near the incoming car of supplies, the next minute Chris’ strong fingers are on his forearm, bruising, digging into his flesh, stirring him towards the back of the truck. The CO who was supposed to be with them is some 20 feet to the left, chatting away with the delivery man, their backs to the prisoners. 

 

There are no sounds or words exchanged between the two, only Keller’s deep blue eyes instructing him to be calm, to be still. They hear a distant alarm sound, and the CO rushes off towards it, forgetting about them.

 

In the back of the truck there are uniforms, and Keller’s eyes light up like a christmas tree. 

 

This is it: this is the pain and the fear and the unreality of Toby’s life, all in one single second. _This is wrong this is wrong,_ his own alarm ringing off in his head, mirroring the prison one behind them. But is it too late to turn back now: the delivery man gets in the driving seat and drives off, oblivious to two prisoners taking off their clothes and putting on delivery uniforms in the back.

 

It’s much easier than Toby could ever imagine: they do have to hide behind a large container, when the delivery truck is being inspected upon leaving Oz, and Keller does have to break open the lock from the inside when they’re stationary, and it takes all the power that Toby possesses not to scream his lungs out when he finally sees the tops of trees, green everywhere, his eyes almost blind to the danger when they get out of the vehicle. But it is much easier than he could ever imagine; perhaps because Keller is at his side. Killer-Keller, murderer, his lover, eyes glinting in the blooming twilight, strong hand grasping Toby’s to lead him into stolen freedom. 

 

The delivery truck is parked at a resting zone, and they walk carefully to the nearby gas station, its dim lights glinting ahead in the distance like a small oasis. 

 

 _Money_ , Toby briefly thinks. _We need money._ He almost giggles, feeling like a teenager caught smoking at the rear entrance, but stops himself.

 

Keller is, of course, a man of many talents; as soon as he picks the car (old Honda parked farther in the lot), it only takes him a few minutes to start it. As he connects the wires underneath the wheel, Toby is watching for intruders, mentally counting the crimes and the according sentences they will receive for all this. Escape from a correctional facility, felony grand theft, perhaps a little murder in the second degree later this afternoon...

 

People don’t change, Toby remembers a half-forgotten conversation he had with Augustus once. They just become more of who they’ve always been. Maybe he is becoming more of himself, no steady anchor to hold him in one piece of reality puzzle; he is no longer a husband, no longer a drinker, no longer in Oz. He feels bare like this, stripped away of unnecessary pretenses: he is the man Keller sees when he looks at him with that unveiled longing. 

 

They are off with a slight screech of tires, breaking Toby’s reverie. Keller drives the way he fucks: at a surface, all quick, hard movements, but there is pleasure hiding beneath that, in every curve the wheel makes as the road angles, in the way his fingers grip it softly but firmly; his other hand is playing with the radio. None of the songs on it are familiar to Toby; the whole world has been out there, happening, as they were stuck inside dirty grey walls.

 

“Money,” Toby remembers. “We need money. We should get to Angus’ bank branch at some point.”

 

“I know a guy few miles up North,” Keller drawls, “He can get a fake ID in no time.”

 

Because of course he does. Toby grins, the mania bubbling up in his mind, like an eager child, just waiting to be let out.

 

“Also, as soon as we get far enough, I want a good hotel,”  He adds. “With a big bed. And curtains,”

 

Suddenly there is a warm pressure of a hand on his left thigh.

 

"Tob-y-y-y," a low growl, “I like the way you think."

 

 


	2. II

II

 

Keller waits in the car, watching the exchange through the glass window. Dressed in new preppy clothes they bought on the way, there he is, his Toby, making eyes at the bank clerk, all easy smiles and cheerful laughs. So seemingly pure, and yet, right in the middle of committing a crime. The clerk says something, a young girl, clearly smitten, and Toby throws his head slightly to the side - that one gesture that Keller knows so well. 

 

But that person behind the glass is not the real Toby. No, the real Toby is a dangerous con, his lover, his fellow _murderer_. The real Toby has killed and torn dicks off, and yet he can be so malleable and agreeable with him, just for him. It makes Keller ache, the pure knowledge that he is the one who gets to see the true Toby only with him can Toby be true to himself; his preppy Harvard lawyer with baby blues, his _partner in crime._

 

As Toby slides back into his narrow seat, he slams the passenger door shut, a content smile creeping on his face. 

 

“You look like such a good boy,” Keller drawls, looking him up and down once again. 

 

“Good boy?” Toby asks incredulously. “I just committed identity fraud, while impersonating my own brother. After escaping maximum security detention.” 

 

“All buttoned up and proper,” Keller clarifies.

 

“We need to get out of here quickly. Unless you missed Oz so much you want to go back already?" 

 

Toby plays with the radio, jumping from station to station, finally settling on some unknown electronic song. There are rows of trees, vibrant and green, and Toby rolls down his window, inhaling fresh air. 

 

They drive in silence for some time.

 

"When we get caught," Keller suddenly says, "I want you to tell them I threatened you. Made you go with me. That you had no choice."

 

 

Toby feels blood rushing to his temples, quick as mercury. "Chris--"

 

"I'm serious. I don't want you to rot in that hellhole and hate me for doing this with you."

 

"This is just so like you!" Toby yells, and their eyes meet as Keller gets temporarily distracted from the road. "Your self-sacrificing vullshit, Toby don't call me, Toby don't write me letters, and if you do, I won't respond back. Forget you ever lo-" he stops abruptly, grabbing the wheel with his left hand and turning it so the car changes lanes before Keller stops at the curb to avoid going jeadfirst into the forest. 

 

"What the fuck-" Keller barely has time for react before Toby's strong hands grab the lapels of his new jacket and drag him towards Toby's lips. By instead of a kiss, Toby hisses:

"Now listen to me, you fucker. _I love you_. I will always love you. I will never stop wanting this, and I'm sick to death of you telling me what to do. Fucking question my feelings for you again, I'll leave you on the side of the road." 

 

Toby's eyes are wild enough that Chris believes every word. He murmurs a quiet "sorry", and Toby throws the last warning glance at him, icy blue glaciers peering into his soul, and then they kiss, violently, beautifully. Toby's hands scratch at the black leather of the lapels in that perfectly needy way, and Keller growls. 

 

When they break apart, Keller is grinning. "You wanna drive?”

 

“I can’t drive,” Toby answers automatically. “My license was suspended indefinitely.” _In another life._ It feels so far away, it almost wasn’t him who drove home blind-drunk.

 

“Just for a while. I won’t tell if you don’t.” Keller’s smile is half Cheshire Cat, half mischievous child, and his voice has the rasp of a heroin-laced inhale. So Toby says _yes_ , he always says yes.

 

 

Some twenty minutes later, all windows are down despite a rather colder evening, Toby’s too-long hair blowing in the wind; he missed this, the ride, the control. Chris to his right smiles knowingly. 

 

 

***

 

When they fall down onto cheap but crispy white sheets, the day is almost over. Darkness enveloping the world on the other side of the curtains with its plush wings. Toby moans as they rip each other’s new clothes, all fingers, scratches, hisses, as they attempt to satisfy their hunger. Keller rips his shirt open to leave darkening red bruises all over his chest, as Toby breathes in sharply, hands busy trying to get Keller’s pants open. 

 

Chris whispers “I love you,” right into Toby’s ear, as they move against each other, the air around them hot and moist, and Toby thinks all of a sudden, _None of those boys you killed could ever see you like this._ It should scare him, but it just doesn’t; nothing matters anymore, the past and future all blurred. There is just them, together, as they should be. No one else would understand. Toby throws his head back, uncaring.

 

It’s everything they ever wanted: uninterrupted privacy, the thrill of anonymity, the benefit of slow controlled movements. They can take their time, rediscovering each other’s secrets hidden within their cells, moaning and thrashing right into Heaven and back.


End file.
